Every day, students at GFS are met with unique sets of challenges, from memorizing Newton’s laws of motion to grappling with the portrayal of time in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. They balance clubs, homework, and the ever-fleeting concept of “free time,” as well as navigate the mundane aspects of campus life, such as finding a parking spot in the morning or calculating the best time to get in line at the Dining Hall to avoid the crowds. Amidst the juggling of these competing priorities and daily inconveniences, especially in such a tight-knit environment, it can be easy for students to lose sight of larger issues outside the school community. As a result, GFS may assume the role of a “bubble”—a shield from the struggles of the “real” world. However, that bubble has popped before and, inevitably, it will pop again.
Global conflict, defined by the European Environment Information and Observation Network as a “controversy, disagreement, quarrel or warfare between or among two or more nations or countries, often requiring involvement or monitoring by other members of the global community,” inescapably burrows itself into the GFS community. The myriad of perspectives that community members harbor, combined with their diverse backgrounds, make the school especially susceptible to the effects of international affairs. Although this feels especially true in recent years, GFS has grappled with instances of global conflict in different ways throughout the school’s long history—namely, through moral and physical support to allies, creating education spaces on campus, and fostering open discussion.
The year 1939 saw the beginning of World War II—the deadliest war in global history. Although the United States was only attacked on its own soil a few times during the war, the war’s impact infiltrated almost every aspect of American society. GFS was no exception.
Guided by values like peace and stewardship, GFS supported two schools in Falaise, France: the Collège Classique de Garçons and the Collège Moderne de Jeunes Filles. From November of 1945 through April of 1947, GFS sent supplies to these two schools, implemented a pen pal system with French students to promote an exchange of ideas, and made curriculum changes to foster discussion and empathy around the war. The materials sent included 571 boxes of clothing, food, and school supplies, such as books, maps, typewriters, and puzzles. These boxes also provided a lens into the GFS community, with photographs of school activities and copies of the Pastorian (now Earthquake). This project was organized by the Service Committee, a GFS student committee that arranged service projects, in an attempt to provide continuous aid to the Falaise schools during their time of vulnerability and regrowth.
It was not just physical aid that GFS provided, however. In a Pastorian article titled “Our Friends in Falaise,” the newspaper implored its readers to lend their emotional aid: “What the French people want most is the spiritual understanding and sympathy of the Americans.” To this end, seniors in French classes wrote letters and essays to students at Collège Classique de Garçons, further demonstrating the school’s Quaker practice of stewardship, including essays that outlined sources of “American Optimism.” For some students in Falaise, these letters had a profound impact. Jean Vourc’h, a student from Collège Classique, responded to his pen pal, Peter Spruance ’47, writing, “There is one thing about you, Peter, that I admire very much. That is your optimism. With us, on the contrary, it is pessimism that reigns, and this pessimism is augmented by jealousy, hate of all nations, whose sole ambition is to transform science into an instrument of destruction.”
Joan Countryman ’58 had the opportunity to be a part of the connection between GFS and the French schools when she and the GFS choir traveled to Falaise in the summer of 1956. The trip, Countryman says, was a calculated decision. “Part of the reason it was decided to have a choir go was that people thought, ‘You know, it’s 10 years later [after] the end of World War II. It’s a little harder for us to maintain some of these connections. What can we do?’ And somebody said, ‘How about sending the choir?’”
The trip was a part of the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) School Affiliation Service, which, according to Countryman, helped to match up schools in North America with those in other parts of the world. Upon arrival in France, Countryman was struck by the hospitality and friendship of the people she met. She also got to meet the girl whom, through the school’s pen pal program, she had been writing to in class. “I met Josette, my correspondent, and she is quite pretty and very sweet,” she recorded in a diary entry. “She gave me some postcards and pictures of herself in a beautiful scarf.”
Not only did the trip impact the students on a personal level, but it also highlighted the value of GFS’ relationship with Falaise, and stressed the importance of the school’s engagement with the broader world. Countryman remembers the moment this became apparent to her. The choir briefly stopped in Germany and, while she was eating dinner with her host family and communicating as well as she could in German, the father—who hadn’t spoken much her entire visit—suddenly said to her, “You fed us. You helped us.” These powerful words demonstrated the significance of GFS’ decision to send the choir, continuing the school’s engagement with post-World War II Europe.
Although GFS did not form direct relationships in Germany like it did in France, the choir visit—even if only for a few days—had an important effect on the people with whom GFS students interacted. In the case of World War II and the following time of regrowth, the school took an active approach, helping to mend the repercussions of the war and offering support to those most deeply affected.
The theme of GFS’ engagement with the world is not unique to World War II and its relationship with Falaise. The Vietnam War, the second-longest war in American history, similarly seeped into the GFS community, eliciting responses from students, faculty, and administrators alike. In a 2019 Q&A in the alumni Bulletin magazine, retired GFS history teacher and lawyer Jeremy Ross ’69 alluded to how his time at GFS was impacted by the conflict. He said, “I graduated in 1969, and by that time, we were deep, deep into the war. There was a great deal of interest in politics. A lot of people were highly active and involved, I think chiefly, but not entirely, as a result of the war. It was a big, big deal. A lot of my classmates were automatically anti-war because it was a Quaker school and it was the ’60s.”
Given the prevalence of war discussions on campus, the school held a Vietnam Moratorium on October 15, 1969. Henry Scattergood, then head of school, outlined the purpose of the event, writing in a letter to families, “As a Friends school, we expect to devote a part of the morning to learning something of the history and culture of Vietnam, the background of our involvement in the war, and to discussing our response to this both as individuals and as a nation.” The day started with an assembly for grades 7-12, followed by recess and further discussions in homeroom groups. Students then proceeded to “Interest Groups,” where the conversations were more specific and tailored, followed by Meeting for Worship. Then came the pinnacle event of the day: a silent vigil. Students (with parental approval) and parents were invited to take part in the afternoon’s silent observation. Those who did not attend the vigil did other activities, such as sign painting and writing letters to congressmen.
This day also served as an opportunity for education in the Lower School. In the morning, each class discussed the war, followed by a whole-division assembly presented by Stephen Cary, GFS alumnus and clerk of the School Committee. In the words of John Harkins, principal of the Lower School at the time, “The focus [of the assembly] will be not on the war or its effects but on the rural beauty of a country and its people.” Students could then join the vigil if their parents granted permission and attended with their child. Harkins continued, “In the Lower School program, our object[ive] is to educate students about Vietnam and to help them understand what many of the older people will be doing on that day. We do not think it would be appropriate to ask young children to decide whether to participate in what is essentially a political act that they probably do not understand.”
In the instance of Vietnam, GFS went to great lengths to foster student engagement and participation around the events of the war within all divisions. Ranging from political activism to creative expression, educational learning to emotional reflection, the Vietnam Moratorium provided an outlet for students and other community members alike to confront and address the nuanced and inescapable topic at hand.
Over three decades later, the attack on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, had a reverberating and tragic effect within the GFS community. One GFS parent sadly lost their life in the terrorist attacks. A School Committee report to the Meeting following 9/11 read, “The events of September 11th had a profound effect on the spiritual life of students and faculty alike.” Immediately following the strikes at the World Trade Center, students were excused from class and directed to Poley, where the live events were being broadcast on a TV. Students were then dismissed in the middle of the day, and classes remained canceled for several days after.
GFS alumnus and Middle School math teacher Matt Greenawalt ’02 recalls the moment he learned of the attack. “We had our chem teacher come into the room after sort of being pulled aside, and he shared, ‘There’s been an attack.’ I am really thankful for the fact that the person who shared the news was Ken [Aldridge, former head of the science department]. I think his voice of assurance, where he wasn’t quavering about the information or didn’t give much information [was very helpful].”
The school did the best it could to support and offer a sense of normalcy in this period of turmoil, as illustrated by an excerpt from a School Committee letter: “In the succeeding weeks, the school drew upon its mission as a learning environment to help students try to understand the events and some of the factors leading up to them.” But as GFS alumnus and biology teacher Adam Rosenblatt ’02 describes, the country developed a heightened sense of fear and tension, making it hard to go back to the way things were. “In general, there was just a huge amount of fear and confusion in society because [the attack] was unprecedented,” Rosenblatt says.
To combat feelings of anxiety and uncertainty, Greenawalt and Rosenblatt leaned on their peers and teachers to adapt to their new normal. While GFS provided spaces for reflection, like Meeting for Worship, conversations surrounding the events occurred in all parts of the community. “I felt very supported by my peers in the sense that you could have open discussion,” says Greenawalt. “I remember in English, we had open discussions during class about how we were doing. I remember being able to talk about how I was feeling and then also just hearing others and feeling supported [by] the community, recognizing there was a wide range of emotions.”
The “Ssenior table” in the front hall of Main, which was considered an open forum for debate, also provided a space on campus that fostered deliberation. “A lot of [the discussion at the table] was open conversation without teacher intervention. It was [these] conversations that allowed us to come to terms [with what had happened],” adds Greenawalt.
A large component of the dialogue around 9/11, especially that which was school-sanctioned, centered around the Quaker testimony of peace. “I remember conversations about pacifism,” recalls Rosenblatt. “Obviously, that is a central tenet of Quakerism and how that should inform people’s response to it.” However, he felt that overexpression of the Quaker testimony led to unwarranted criticisms that could disregard others’ spiritual beliefs. “On the flip side, I think it went a bit too far. There was an [Upper School student] who went to the Naval Academy because he wanted to be a fighter pilot. He got a ton of flak for that and pushback because that’s [traditionally] not a Quaker thing to do. I think that’s a little too far—to judge other people who do not necessarily hold the same religious and spiritual beliefs as you do.”
The September 11 attacks had such an impact on campus life that it affected scheduling and travel plans; the choir trip, after three careful years of planning, was moved from China to Canada due to fear of terrorism abroad. China was deemed too far away, and discussions of going to Eastern Europe were dismissed due to its proximity to Afghanistan. “I remember [people being] opposed to stepping in and [instead of] being like, ‘No, we can be a representative group that acts out of bravery,’ it was, ‘No, no, no, we are going to be very, very safe,’” Greenawalt recalls.
In an Earthquake issue published on October 4, 2001, Dan Berkman ’02 wrote, “As Americans experience emotions of disbelief, fear, anger, and sorrow, it is important not to let those emotions control us over the next few weeks, months, and even years. Try to take a step back from the world and this tragic event. You will find yourself living through history. This is an event that will cover the pages of our history books in fifty years. You will always remember where you were when you heard the news.” Truly, as Berkman predicted, 9/11 is an event cemented in American history forever. The impact that 9/11 had on GFS, similarly, holds great significance in the history of the school.
Although international conflict ties each of these three events together, they must be individually considered within their unique time periods in order to understand why the school responded to each in the way that it did. However, the key similarity between these examples is that they all carry a theme that conflicts with GFS’ Quaker principles at their core—violence.
The fundamental Quaker principle of peace complicates the school’s ability to respond to and grapple with global conflict. On one hand, the pillar of nonviolence provides an ethical standard and clear stance for the school to follow. On the other hand, violence is so common that it becomes difficult to decipher when or when not to open school-sanctioned discussions. Currently, the Gaza humanitarian crisis, Ukraine-Russia War, Sudan Civil War, and Kashmir tensions are just a small sample of the numerous international conflicts unfolding every day. As the world continues to become an increasingly tempestuous place and the school encounters new global issues, GFS community members can look back at past conflicts as precedents. The school can use these instances as guidelines to inform its actions and responses so that it continues to strive for a more harmonious, unified world.
In many ways, GFS maintains a similar guiding framework today that it has used in the past: confrontation of global conflict around the needs of the student body. Charla Okewole, the director of diversity, equity, and inclusion, says, “We always want to be led by our students and their voices. There’s the world of adults and adults who are really passionate about something that’s happened in the world, and then there’s this world of students and children. We are serving students.” History Department Head Rob Goldberg echoes this sentiment: “We try to be attuned to what students want to know. For us to make judgments about what’s worth knowing and admitting would be really tricky. We’re after getting a sense of the pulse of student interest.”
Topics of student interest can occur in many different ways—through both prompted and unsolicited Meeting for Worship reflections, seminal readings, or even lunch table debates, to name a few. “Lunch-and-learns,” hosted by the history department, can be a helpful way for students to investigate conflict in a secure space. In these forums, Goldberg says, “The goal is to support students in their search for understanding around the topic and [help them develop] a better grasp on the truth by providing historical perspectives to help them think historically about the subject.” Providing students with the knowledge and means to tackle current events is one way to support students as they try to process the challenges of the world.
When choosing to respond to an instance of global conflict, the school may face the potentially risky or controversial concept of a public statement. Usually in the form of an email or a speech, a statement is often an expression of the school’s stance on a matter and the message it wants to convey to the community outwardly as an institution. As seen in Henry Scattergood’s letter to parents about the Vietnam Moratorium, statements from GFS often touch on fundamental Quaker values and highlight what the school is doing in response to a contentious issue.
Even today, Quaker beliefs continue to guide the school’s reactions to global conflict. In an April 12, 2024, address to community members, Head of School Dana Weeks wrote, “As a Quaker school, we are dedicated to reaching that of God which exists in each one of us. Quakerism is not a religion of slogans, symbols, or dogma, but rather one that pushes us to actively listen and seek Truth in community; to listen to one another and the Light within.” Week’s letter was in response to months of conversations regarding the Israel-Hamas war, with tensions high and many calling on the school to take a “side.” However, Weeks shared, “We will not take a political position that will only foster further polarization and bitterness…Instead, we choose to live our values and model peace, starting in our relationships with one another.”
With so many conflicts emerging in the world today, communicating the school’s position through a statement can be difficult—a reality that is not unique to GFS. Educational institutions from primary to post-secondary levels are under intense scrutiny, making it difficult to publicly respond to conflict in a formal way. Schools such as the University of Pennsylvania, Columbia University, and Harvard University have had to navigate polarized student interests, pressure from donors, and government demands. On a smaller scale, GFS can also fall victim to being pulled between competing priorities, a circumstance that a statement may only complicate. “If you look [at] a lot of places, you can see a lot of folks moving away from statement-making because they are so challenging,” Okewole shares. “Our community is so diverse that making a statement that’s not about education is wholly difficult. It holds a lot of emotions for a lot of folks on campus, and we can’t assume that everybody’s in the same place all the time.”
Rather than a reactionary response to global conflict, some students feel that these events should be taught and discussed through proactive, pre-embedded curricular activities. Zoe Levenstien ’26 thinks that simply providing space for dialogue is one way to support students in processing conflict. “I think encouraging conversation is the best way to go,” she says. “I think one of the goals of [this year’s] Day of Peace was to encourage conversation specifically around Palestine because it feels like it’s a very taboo topic, and it’s hard for people to talk about. There are so many emotions around the war, and it feels tricky to navigate, but I think the first step is opening the floor to conversation and understanding that there’s mutual respect in that conversation and good intentions.”
Similarly, for Siegfried Liu ’27, balancing student leadership with faculty or administrative facilitation is key. “The school needs to say we can talk about it, and there is a space to talk about it,” Liu says. “But what gets talked about should be student-led and organized more because I believe that we are all kind and capable, thoughtful people, and although some discussions are really heated, I believe that we are able to resolve [them] ourselves as students.”
This collaboration between students and adults at school is crucial to supporting the needs of community members in times of conflict. Just as it has in the past, GFS must not shy away from matters that feel deeply personal to students. To effectively serve its students, GFS can open spaces for discussion and give students the tools they need to examine conflict through an educational lens. By doing so, the school allows students to come to their own conclusions while maintaining a neutral position as an institution and asserting GFS as an inclusive and empathetic community.
